


Laila

by towalkinyourlight



Category: The Host (2013), The Host - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:52:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7063666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towalkinyourlight/pseuds/towalkinyourlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been over twenty years since the events of The Host. The humans have grown in number and strength, but so have the Seekers. When a young, ambitious Seeker finds herself in the custody of the humans, she discovers that all she knows about them may be wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laila

The first thing I notice is something warm and soft against my lips.  
This confuses me. I have never felt anything like it before.  
As I become more aware, I realize I am lying down, cushioned all underneath me, especially under my head. I come to the conclusion that I am lying on a mattress and pillow. This makes more sense. The last thing I remember before the pressure on my lips is trying to fall asleep.  
I also notice a heavy weight on top of me. A blanket? No, much too heavy for that. Slowly, I begin to feel another pressure, this one moving up and down my sides, my back, just as soft and warm as the pressure on my mouth.  
The softness against my lips has transformed into gently moving patterns that still press against my mouth. This excites me, for some unknown reason. I am very confused. My brain doesn’t seem to be working properly, or it is simply refusing to tell me what’s happening.  
I am still working through my bewilderment when the pressure on my lips, which had been growing more pronounced every second, moves down my jaw, down my neck.  
I gasp and my eyes fly open.  
I have correctly assessed that I am in a bed, though most definitely not the one in my room. Instead of my ceiling being above me, there is nothing but the open night sky and billions of stars. On the ground, desert sand stretches out as far as the eye can see in every direction. However, off the foot of the bed, in the distance, lies a group of sandy mountain peaks.  
But I do not focus on this.  
Instead, I focus on the mop of hair, seemingly spun from pure gold, that tickles my chin and the soft pressure, which I now recognize as a pair of lips, brushes against my collarbone.  
I gasp again, and the head lifts up to look at me.  
My mind rushes to absorb every detail. Strong jaw. Straight, small nose. A slightly puckered, slightly swollen pink mouth. But most of all, beautiful sapphire blue eyes inlaid into ivory skin. Eyes that seem to go straight to depths of me. Eyes that hold so much intensity I can barely control the butterflies in my stomach.  
Eyes that hold no silver reflection that a soul’s should.  
Every instinct, all the knowledge that I have, screams at me to run, to get away from this human boy hovering over me. But my heart, silent until this point, whispers reassurances. It tells me I have nothing to worry about, or to be afraid of. This boy means me no harm.  
Seeming to sense my internal struggle, the boy smiles- a beautiful, heart-stopping thing- and leans down to kiss me once more. My hands come up and twirl in his hair, on instinct.  
Then he whispers something soft and gentle and barely audible against my lips.  
I love you.

I sit bolt upright in my bed, gasping. For a moment, I look around, trying to orient myself- I am safely back in my room. Then my stomach jumps, and I barely have time to scramble out of bed to the restroom before my stomach heaves its contents.  
After the nausea subsides, I shakily stand up, flush the toilet, and stumble to the sink. I rinse my mouth out, then splash water on my face, trying to calm down. Pressing my hand to my chest, I can feel my racing heartbeat. It is going the same tempo that it was in the dream. Perhaps it is still desperately trying to send a message, to communicate with another heartbeat pressed against it…  
I shiver and splash more water on my face, trying to forget. I am somewhat successful. Already the details are starting to fade. There is little I can remember: a starry night sky, warm skin, a dusty mountain range, a handsome face, gold and sapphire and ivory…  
I splash water on my face once more, pushing the last few memories to the back of my mind, though I do not get rid of them completely. Perhaps I will visit my new Comforter today. He will want to know these simple details. They may, in turn, help him help me.  
Sighing, I glance through the doorway to the clock on my dresser. It reads 3:47 am. I still have a few more hours to sleep.  
I rinse out my mouth again and climb back into my bed. For a long time, I lay there, trying not to think. Yet, as my eyes drift closed, I find myself thinking about the odd dream, and whether or not it will recur. As sleep overcomes me, I pray it will not return, but almost hope that it will.

Beep. Beep. Beepbeepbeep.  
I roll over and turn my alarm off, checking the time as I do. 7 am. The same time I get up every morning. But this morning, it’s different. I feel refreshed and completely rested, and a warm, tingling feeling has settled in my stomach. This is strange, even for the morning person this host is. I shouldn’t feel this good after having an unsettling dream that caused me to throw up at 4 o’clock in the morning.  
Sighing, I push back the covers and pad bare-footed to my closet. Searching through my clothes, I finally decide on a white, button-up sweater, white skinny jeans, and my favorite tan, high-heeled, tie-up ankle boots. My long, auburn hair goes up into its traditional high ponytail. As I’m applying my simple make-up, I glance over at my clock. It’s only 7:15, and I realize if I forgo breakfast until I get to the office, I can probably visit my Comforter before I’m needed at my Calling.  
Just in case, I call my coworker, Damian, and tell him I might be late. He politely asks why, and I tell him I need to visit my Comforter, and he tells me he will spread the word. I thank him, and the moment we hang up, I grab my keys and climb into my shiny silver car.  
When I arrive at my Comforter’s house, I am unnecessarily nervous. I have only been to talk to him six or seven times since I was transferred from London. My mother was very resistant for me to leave, considering how young I am, but the only reason she approved was when she read about my Comforter. If he can be accepted by my over-protective mother, he is good enough for me.  
I raise a shaky fist and knock on his door. The door opens almost immediately, and I am greeted with my Comforter’s kind face.  
“Good morning, Laila! What brings you here this morning?” He smiles heartily. I take note of his loose shirt and pajama pants. I bite my lip nervously.  
“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment, but if I’ve woken you up, then-“  
“No, I was already up. Won’t you come in?” He asks. I nod, and step into his house. It, as always, is incredibly tidy and smells clean. I go into his living room, and he goes into the kitchen. I take my usual chair: the cushioned love seat in the corner. As I settle in, I already begin to feel better. This soul, Sings to the Sky, is most definitely born to be a Comforter. His calming demeanor radiates through his home. Though I miss my old Comforter in London, Sings to the Sky has been good to me.  
After a moment, he brings in a tray of drinks and muffins and sets it on the coffee table in front of me. I pick up a poppy seed muffin and one of the crystal glasses, and smile as I recognize the contents.  
“You made lemonade? And muffins?” I ask him as he settles in his favorite seat across from me: an elaborately carved armchair. He smiles warmly at me. I take a small bite of the muffin and set it aside for later. Then, picking up the glass of lemonade, I take a sip. Just as usual, it tastes fantastic. Not too sour, not too sweet. It’s room temperature- the only unfortunate thing about it. I think it tastes best when it’s ice cold. I don’t comment on this to Sings to the Sky; he does so much for me already.  
“Of course, Laila. I know they’re your favorite.” He grabs a glass of his own.  
“Thank you, Sings to the Sky. You are very thoughtful.”  
“You’re welcome. Now, what brings you out here this morning?”  
“Well, Comforter, I had a very unsettling dream last night, and I hoped I could speak with you about it.” He nods, and I take a deep breath before beginning.  
I tell him the basic idea of it- I was kissing someone- and the few specific details I do remember. A blush creeps into my cheeks as I speak of the odd feeling it sent spinning through me. I also tell him how I woke with a start and almost immediately threw up. He is silent through most of my tirade and occasionally smiles sympathetically at me.  
“I just don’t know what to think, Sings to the Sky.” I finish with a sigh. “It was such an unsettling dream. I’ve never had one so vivid before.”  
“Would you like to hear my theory?” He asks politely.  
“Of course. It’s why I came to see you.” I reply. He takes a deep breath and begins.  
“My guess is that your host’s body is simply calling out for a partner. As you know, a human body through certain changes at this point in life, making a mate more desirable, and-“  
“Yes, I know. “ I cut him off, the blush coming back. I don’t want to have this discussion with him; any mention of it makes me terribly embarrassed.  
“Have you pursued this kind of relationship yet?” He questions.  
“Well… yes, but nothing ever felt quite right.” I reply glumly, thinking of Damian’s friendly face. Sings to the Sky smiles at me sympathetically.  
“Don’t worry Laila. You are still so young; there is still so much time for you to find a partner.” He assures me, and I smile vaguely. Patience does not sit well in this host. “Now, since you’re here, let’s talk about how you’re adjusting to living here. It’s been about two months since you’ve moved in, am I correct?” He questions. I nod.  
“Yes, two months and a week and a half.” I say automatically.  
“And do you like it here?” He asks  
“Yeah, I do. It’s a lot warmer here.” I smile. “Although, the way your hosts talk is odd.” Sings to the Sky chuckles.  
“It does take some getting used to.” He smiles. “Have you spoken to your family recently?” My smile slides off my face. The homesickness and being away from my parents has been quite hard on me the past few weeks.  
“Yeah, I called them last Thursday. It was my mum’s birthday, so I thought I’d give her my love. I sent her a snow globe from one of the souvenir shops in town as a present. She collects them.” I say.  
“How nice.” Sings to the Sky says. “Maybe next year you can have them come visit you for her birthday instead of sending Arizona to her.”  
I nod and smile vaguely, taking a quick glance at the clock. With a jolt, I realize I have to leave right away to get to my Calling before I’m very late.  
“I’m sorry, but I have to leave now.” I apologize.  
“Alright, I’ll escort you out. And Laila, I would suggest going to a Healer today, just to make sure you aren’t sick.” He says as we walk out of his house to my car. I thank him and wish a good day, telling him I’ll go to the Healing facility after work while I’m climbing into my car and starting it. As I drive away, watching him wave at me from his driveway, I get the sudden sense that I will never see him again. This feeling is followed by two contradicting ones: an urge to turn right back around and hole up in Sings to the Sky’s house, and an overwhelming sense of relief. Shaking all of it off, I head in the direction of the Seeker’s office.


End file.
